


If I Could

by alittlebitoftheuniverse



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, Fluff, HIV/AIDS mention, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, because i don't hate myself that much, but no death in here, i guess, implied future death, in the first half, in the second half
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebitoftheuniverse/pseuds/alittlebitoftheuniverse
Summary: “Marvin,” he says, and Marvin’s heart drops because Whizzer never sounds so gentle. “Look, we want different things, it’s not a good idea…”“What I want,” Marvin says, cutting across him, shaking his head. “Whizzer...what I want is you. And that’s all. I just...I just want you.”Marvin and Whizzer, on two different nights, being together and trying not to be afraiid





	If I Could

**Author's Note:**

> This was another prompt I got on tumblr, and I'm kind of proud of it so I decided to post it! Hope you guys enjoy it (and I'm sorry)!

 

Marvin laughs weakly as Whizzer flops onto the mattress next to him, both of them trying to catch their breath. “That was...good.”

Whizzer snorts, rolling onto his stomach, his voice already thick and sleepy in the way he always used to get after they had sex. “Eloquent as ever, Marv.”

Marvin rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, watching as the other man’s face relaxes, his eyelids fluttering closed. He admires the pool of moonlight centered on Whizzer’s back, making him look ethereal. When Marvin saw him at Jason’s ball game, it hadn’t been his plan to bring him home, let himself be crowded against the door as he was kissed so hard it made his vision fuzzy when they finally broke apart.. It hadn’t been his plan to draw Whizzer to bed, keeping him so close to him that he was the only thing Marvin could see. It hadn’t been his plan to have sex with Whizzer Brown tonight. He’d only meant to ask if he could give him a call, maybe take him out for coffee. Not that he was complaining…

Whizzer hasn’t changed much in the last two years. Still tall and lean, still big-haired and bright-eyed. Still pretty. Probably still mean, though he hadn’t spoken enough for Marvin to be certain. He’s missed him, so much that it makes his chest ache. He wants to grab him and hold him tight and be held in return and never pull away again. But he doesn’t want to ruin the sight of this man in his bed, so he doesn’t move, doesn't say a word. He only looks at him, the way Whizzer looked at Gucci boots, or the way Cordelia looked at that abandoned, boarded-up cafe across the street.

“You’re staring,” Whizzer grunts, without even opening his eyes, making Marvin chuckle.

“Sorry,” he whispers, because it seems wrong to speak too loudly. “Go back to sleep.” He pulls the comforter up over Whizzer’s hips, smoothing it down maybe just a little more than necessary. It brings a sleepy half-smirk to Whizzer’s lips.

“I can’t sleep with you watching me,” he mumbles, stretching out and rolling to face the wall. Marvin lets the silence stretch out for a long moment before he speaks again.

“Whizzer?”

Whizzer gives a little hum in response, so Marvin continues. “Just so you know...I’m sorry.”

Even without touching him, Marvin can feel Whizzer going tense next to him. Just as he’s cursing himself for anything at all, trying to think of a joke to fix this, when Whizzer rolls back to face him.

“We never would’ve worked anyway,” he says lightly, shrugging like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We’re too different. And I’m never going to be your housewife.”

“I’m not asking you to be,” Marvin murmurs. “I swear...I don’t want you to be, not anymore. And I know I was stupid before, and bossy, and demanding.”

“And you’re a terrible housekeeper,” Whizzer adds.

“And I’m a terrible housekeeper,” Marvin nods, smiling hopefully. “But...I’m trying not to...I don’t want you to think…” Whizzer looks down, and Marvin stops talking.

“Marvin,” he says, and Marvin’s heart drops because Whizzer never sounds so  _ gentle _ . “Look, we want different things, it’s not a good idea…”

“What I want,” Marvin says, cutting across him, shaking his head. “Whizzer...what I want is  _ you. _ And that’s all. I just...I just want you.”

Whizzer’s mouth opens, then closes, his brow furrowed. “Marvin…”

“Whizzer,” he says helplessly, taking his hand, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “You don’t have to promise me anything, but...please, just let me prove it.”

For a long time, Whizzer doesn’t say a word. And when he does speak, his voice betrays his attempt to sound calm. “As long as you don’t make me play chess…” And Marvin can’t help it then, he wraps his arms around Whizzer Brown and clutches him as tight as he can and shakes his head firmly when his mind tells him that men don’t cry.

“Hey.” Whizzer gives a little laugh, squeezing him back. “Get a grip, Marv, it’s not like we’re getting married.”

“I’d marry you if I could,” Marvin says without thinking, and he means it, but Whizzer just rolls his eyes and pulls back. 

“You’re talking crazy. Go to sleep.”

* * *

 

When Marvin looks at Whizzer now, his chest still aches. But it’s an entirely different pain now, the weight of knowing the person you love most is fading before your eyes and you can’t do a damn thing about it. Whizzer tries to make jokes about it, but he stops when nobody laughs, when they just look horrified instead. But Marvin prefers the morbid jokes to the silence that follows.

The ache from before is still there, the pain of loving this man so much he felt like his chest would burst. Whizzer is still beautiful to him, even as his hair thins and his limbs turn skeletal. It doesn’t stop Marvin from loving him, if anything he adores him more for opening his eyes every morning. But it’s the fact that Whizzer is fading, that Whizzer knows it, that he can’t stand. They’ve stopped trying to give each other pep talks and false hope. The truth has finally sunk in, and they don’t try to escape it. Whizzer is dying. And this is the fate Marvin has to look forward to.

“I’m sorry,” Whizzer says one night, very softly, his voice a thin echo of what it once was.

Marvin turns in his arms to look at him, the dark circles under his eyes betraying exhaustion. “Don’t be.”

Whizzer snorts, looking at Marvin through weary eyes, but he doesn’t try to say why he’s sorry, or even make a joke. What he says instead, his voice very small, is, “I wish you’d go home and rest.”

“I’m staying here,” Marvin insists, holding Whizzer’s hand tight between both of his, trying to warm it up. “You need someone to keep you company.”

Whizzer sighs, bringing Marvin’s hands to his lips, kissing them. “I’ll be fine, just go home. Drink yourself to death or something, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

Marvin feels something in his chest grow tighter as he looks at Whizzer, shaking his head firmly. “I’m not moving. Not tonight, not ever.” He kisses Whizzer’s hand in turn. “I’m staying.” He can’t help the tears slipping down his cheeks, and he doesn’t try to stop them, wrapping Whizzer up and holding him as tight as he can, like that will keep him here. And Marvin says the one thing he told himself he wasn’t going to say. “Please don’t go.”

And Whizzer gives a shaky sigh that turns into a sob and then they’re both crying, clutching at each other desperately, Whizzer’s hands in tight fists in Marvin’s sweatshirt. They cry for each other, and they cry for themselves, and they cry because this world is just so damn unfair and they’re powerless to stop it ruining their lives. When they can finally breathe again, Marvin’s vision is fuzzy, but not from a kiss.

Whizzer wipes his cheeks gently with his sleeve, his own eyes puffy and red. He starts to talk, then stops, laughing weakly. “You know something?”

Marvin shakes his head, stroking Whizzer’s hair gently. “No. Tell me?”

Whizzer’s eyes soften. “I would’ve married you if I could.”

For a moment, tears threaten Marvin’s vision again, but he forces them back, blinking hard until the lump in his throat has melted enough for him to speak.

“You’re talking crazy. Go to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream about musicals with me on tumblr @childofdustandashes. Comments are my lifeblood, so please leave one if you'd like to see more Falsettos fics from me!


End file.
